Skeleton Me
by Renae319
Summary: Of course: post 100th episode. Brennan decides to high-tail it to a foreign country with mass graves, but not before leaving Booth a revealing letter.
1. Love My Name

A/N: Hello Everybody! Today I was supposed to write a paper on Augustine's Confessions, but this fic refused to be ignored and forced itself out of my brain and into being. I say it was a day well spent!

* * *

It had been a very long and a very boring day on a stakeout for a drug bust. Booth was grateful for the long walk from his car back up to his office. He couldn't believe that he was able to sit for, what, eight hours straight? His back was starting to bother him and he thought for a fleeting second that he could have Bones realign it for him before he was confronted with a choice. Elevator or Stairs? He opted for the movement the stairs supply, each step providing relief to his bored muscles.

Everyone in the office had already left for the weekend. He hadn't necessarily needed to go back to the office after the stakeout, but he desperately wanted to check his messages. He hadn't been able to have his cell with him today so if someone…someone….needed to get a hold of him, their best bets were to just leave a message with the secretary. Booth entered his office and saw a very small pile of little pink message slips.

Hodgins wanted to tell him something about squinty-stuff on their latest victims. Cullen left a message to update him on the drug bust (40 kilos of coke were recovered fyi). Nothing else really special. His hopes had been dashed that Bones might have called. This makes 46 hours since they last saw each other, not that he was counting or anything…The first couple of days after that conversation, where she turned him down, had been strained; awkward even. Booth wasn't sure if he should be mad with himself, with Sweets, or with her.

When was it going to be his turn? He might make fun of Sweets for being a child all he wants, but at the end of the day, at least the love of Sweet's life loves him back. He doesn't have a kid out of wedlock with a woman who hated him for years: and messy and sparse visiting days with him on top of it. Sweets doesn't have a gambling problem. He doesn't have to go home to an empty apartment at the end of the day.

Booth ran his fingers through his hair and massaged his face in frustration. A corner of white paper caught his eye underneath the key board. _I don't remember stowing anything there_. He pulled out a paper folded in thirds, hamburger style, with his name _S. Booth_ written neatly across it in her handwriting.

His heart jumped in his throat. It was nice to have contact from her, but this can't be good…He folded it open with trembling hands and read:

_Booth,_

_ I'm not sure really how to write a letter like this so I suppose it's easiest to just state the facts as they are without trying to cushion them. _

_ I'm going away for awhile. The Russian Government needs help identifying a mass grave found in a gulag in Siberia. I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. I'm not going there to try to forget about this past week or to forget about you. I could never forget about you, Booth. Therein lays the problem. Whether I like it or not, my ability to compartmentalize you has somehow disappeared over these past years and you are ever present in my thoughts. Having accepted and come to terms with this, I now venture to see what I can do about it. _

_ Please know that you're the most important person in my life. No matter how this ends, that fact cannot change. I need time and space to think, without you. Here in D.C. you affect every part of my life. Something I've come to depend on and even enjoy. By removing myself from the familiar environment I will be able to more objectively think and perhaps I'll venture to make "gut decisions" _

_I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what this change will mean. You're the most important person in my life and I don't want to lose that. I've begun to depend on you more that I would like to admit and I don't want an attempt on further intimacy to destroy us like it did years ago. I don't want to work with anyone except you; you're the only person in the FBI who is capable of putting up with me and I think that if we couldn't work together I would simply return to anthropology of ancient remains. _

_ I know that I have hurt you, and it hurts me to do this too. It may be cowardly, but I need to do this and this is the only way I think I can think it through. You're my best friend and I think I love you, but maybe not in the way you need to be loved. _

_I miss you already._

_Your Bones x _

Booth stared at the paper after having read it, trying to wrap his mind around the information. _"I think I LOVE you??"_ He began to reread it again and again, these times, dissecting each word and phrase and how it fit with the others. He looked at her handwriting: it was more uneven than her usual perfect handwriting (when didn't she try to do anything perfectly?); he could see hesitation marks where the pen had bled through the page. The greatest hesitation marks were in and around the phrase "_I think I love you_".

He was torn. He wanted to be happy that she was seriously considering a relationship; that she recognized her own feelings finally (or finally acknowledged that she feels so). She even signed it with a kiss! But she was gone. Far, far away this time, in a dangerous country; while she thought about their relationship, weigh out the pros and cons. If Bones was anything, it certainly wasn't conventional. But she was right; she had to do this her way.

Her way was what made Brennan Bones. He wouldn't love her if she didn't insist upon tagging along all the cases, perform over-thorough examinations of remains, and give her heart and soul over to her career. She had a passion for justice and truth that Booth could never hope to find again. She said that she didn't have an open heart; but she was oblivious to just how open her heart was. If only with the dead.

He couldn't just let her go off without a word. Yes, her intent had been that the letter would satisfy his desire to talk her out of going; although, he wouldn't have needed to say anything to her. One look from him and she would be pudding in his hands. And she needed to go for this to be done correctly.

Booth picked up his phone and hit her speed dial.

*

Across town in Dulles airport gate D16, Dr. Temperance Brennan was jostling her knee waiting for her plane to board. She impatiently glanced at her watch: 7:15. Two more minutes since she last looked. And boarding wasn't going to happen for another half hour at least. She thought she might have brought a book, but accepted the fact that she was too agitated for any task besides checking the time every two minutes. _Once we take off, you can calm down…_

She nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone rang in her pocket. Irritated, she dug it out of her coat pocket and glanced at the caller ID: S. Booth. A surge of adrenaline was released in her blood stream while she contemplated her next move.

"Are you going to answer that, dear, or let it bother me the rest of the night?" a kindly old biddy with knitting needles asked Brennan.

"Um…um…please!" Brennan shoved the phone into her hands. "Will you answer it and see what he wants?"

Brennan looked too frazzled and distraught for her to say no. The old biddy rolled her eyes expertly and hit the Call button.

"Hello?" She asked with a bit of a 'tude.

"Um…Is this Dr. Temperance Brennan's phone?" Booth asked, very confused.

"If she's a brunette with icy blue eyes then you're in luck. Although I don't think that she wants to speak to you at the moment since she shoved her phone into my hands when you rang."

"Um…" He swiped his hand through his hair. "Well could you relay a message for me?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. I'm just going to give her the phone back and she can listen to you like a big girl." The biddy gave Brennan and piercing look as her face fell. She'll have to hear his voice… "If she doesn't want to talk, she can just listen. Here you are sonny." She handed off the phone to a reluctant Brennan. The biddy went back to knitting her yarn as Brennan's intestines knitted in her gut.

"Bones?" Booth didn't know whether to expect a response or not, but he waited a few seconds. A sniffle confirmed his listener.

"Bones…I…I got your letter. I'm not calling to try and stop you or anything, because I know you and I know that this is how you work…"

Her heart flipped in her chest hearing his voice; sweet as honey and smooth as a good chocolate bar. Her every comfort was in him.

"We're both confused right now about a lot, but the only thing I'm sure of is you. You're most significant woman I've ever known and I love you Bones, with all my heart. Please, don't be scared or confused on that account. If we start something, I'm not going to leave you, and I'll never intentionally hurt you." By now, they both had tears streaming down their faces.

"Back then, we didn't know each other. We weren't in tune with each other like we are now. We were different people. We wouldn't be fated to the same outcome.

"You didn't say in your letter how long you were going to be gone this time…I wonder if you told Angela—"

"No." She cut in desperately. Grasping for control over her emotions. Booth was stunned for a minute to hear her voice finally after two days.

"Um…do you know how long you're going to be gone?"

"No." She barely breathed into the receiver.

"Well…for my own sake, will you let me know—somehow— that you're safe? That you're alive? You don't have to directly contact me. Make Angela the middle woman or something…but please just let me know that you're okay?" He sounded like he was begging…then again, he was.

"Yes." She sniffled. The conversation paused.

"Bones…did you mean what you wrote? About—"

"Yes." She asserted more confidently, which didn't go by unnoticed by Booth.

"Please, just don't make me wait forever. I can't bear it much longer…"

She paused. Torn. She could hear the weariness in his voice, the pain, the weight. He could express everything she felt but had no way of letting out.

She sighed and whispered quietly in the phone so that he barely heard it: "_I love you_." And she hung up.

* * *

A/N:This is going to be a multi-chapter fic, hopefully no more than five chapters and will be finished instead of sadly ignored after years like my last attempt at a multichapter. As that paper is due on Friday, it is guaranteed that another chapter will be written by then.

Reviews are always appreciated. For my own amusement, let me know what country you're from!! This is how I travel the globe as a poor college student! Thank you all for reading :)


	2. Love Left Dry

A/N: Heh heh...I really don't want to do schoolwork it seems. It was lovely to wake up this morning to an inbox full of lovely comments and story adds. I am quite flattered and hope you enjoy the second installment of Skeleton Me.

* * *

Two weeks.

Two long, miserable, hopeful, pessimistic, confusing weeks. She's been gone for two, painful weeks. Sweets keeps ringing Booth up trying to set up an appointment, but Booth absolutely refuses. He was sure that had Sweets not pushed them, she would have come around eventually in her own time in her own way. It may have been awhile, but she at least wouldn't have ran off to Russia and left him here nursing an ulcer.

Two days after she left, Angela left a message for Booth with his secretary. All the little pink slip said was: _She made it to Siberia and she's OK_. Since then he's received three such messages, all having similar content. _She's alright; She's safe; She didn't tell me but I'm pretty sure she misses you like crazy, oh and "I'm alright"_ Booth wasn't sure why he didn't just chuck them into a trash bin in frustration, like he would have done normally. But those messages seemed so precious to him. They were the only very indirect contact from her he's had in two weeks, and he hadn't realized just how intertwined their lives had become. Two weeks without hearing her voice or seeing her face was affecting him even more than he had dreaded it would. _At least I'll have Parker this weekend_.

Suddenly Booth's phone jumped to life with _A. Montenegro_ flashing across the screen. He hesitated, letting ring a couple of more times before deciding, _Why the hell not…_

"Booth." He answered definitively.

"Hey, Booth it's Angela. So listen: Meet me at the diner in half hour. I have something to tell you."

"Is it about Bones? Did she call? Is she alright?" He questioned, sounding more panicky than a studdly FBI agent would wish.

"Whoa, down boy! I'll tell you in person. It's no big deal, she's fine…is it a crime if I want to tell you important stuff in person? You've been having the lab call information to you since she's been gone, so I haven't had the chance to see you."

"But—"

"Nope. See you a few, sweetie."

The line went dead.

_Great…I'm gonna have to talk to __**her**__ now too. Geez I may as well have made an appointment with Sweets. Same skill of prying into private lives, separate degrees. _

Booth glanced at his watch. Twenty minutes until they meet. He sighed angrily, downed the last of the cold bitter coffee, grabbed his keys and jacket and drove off to the diner.

*

Booth had been waiting all of ten minutes when Angela showed up, hair windblown, giant purse slung over her shoulder and her usual amount of color in her unusual style. Booth was already irritated since he had to tell Dolores their usual waitress: no, Bones wouldn't be with him today; yes he knew it had been a 'mighty long time' since they'd been in; she's out on business. His gut was churning in agony waiting for Angela.

"Gah, finally! I've been waiting for ten minutes!"

"Simmer down now, Booth. I'm five minutes early for our appointed time." She gave him and irritated look. "No more coffee for you, buddy or you're going to have an aneurism."

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep nasty replies from escaping.

"You have something to tell me, Angela?"He inquired calmly.

"Yes. Several things, in fact." She stopped as Dolores came up to take orders. "Yeah, I'll have a coffee with crème and sugar…and he'll have chocolate milk."

"Coming right up!" She answered cheerily as Angela gave Booth a sly grin. Dolores was gone before Booth could correct the order. _Oh well_…

"So. Brennan is alive. She called me last night from a satellite phone in the Russian Tundra. So far she's been able to ID a dozen or so mass grave victims and there's dozens and dozens more left to be done." She sipped her coffee that had just arrived. Not taking her eyes off of Booth'

"Are you trying to say something, Angela?" He asked her in a biting tone. He glanced down at his chocolate milk; it came with a green Crazee Straw. Booth shook his head and sipped out of the straw and he and Angela watched as the brown liquid twisted and turned and loop-dee-dooped until it reached his mouth.

She shook her head and chuckled. "Yeah. I am trying to say something. This isn't her normal rendezvous to a foreign country to ID mass graves. Before she was avoiding having nothing in her life, a struggle to give herself some meaning, some sense of accomplishment, whether she knew it or not. She traveled over Christmas to avoid not having anyone to spend it with. But now, she has someone waiting for her at home and she doesn't know how to deal with it."

"Wait a second," Booth interrupted. "How much do you know about—"

"Plenty. After you two spilt that night she called me up and told me everything."

"What?" Booth was really confused.

"Yeah. I know. Same here. Very un-Brennan like of her. Which brings me back to what I had been saying. All that stuff in Sweet's book about her family and her not knowing how to let love in isn't complete bullshit, even if the events are misplaced. He told you that you had "missed your moment": that is TOTAL bullshit. You missed that moment because it wasn't your moment to miss. Right now, THIS is your moment. And goddamnit Booth, I'm not going let you two miss it."

She dug through her mighty handbag and slapped down a plane ticket.

"A plane ticket?"

*Slap*

"A train ticket?"

*Slap*

"A map?"

"I've already called your boss and Rebecca." She finished the last of her coffee and slapped a five down on table. "Takeoff is in 4 hours so go home, pack, get your passport and you're going to see her."

"But-but Ange, she wants to be left alone…and think, and process. Pushing her…"

"Is exactly what she needs. We both know that Brennan is strong enough to let this pass, but her fire will go out. I can't believe how much she's changed since you came into her life and took her into the field and out of the lab…She used to carry skulls in her bag like it was no big deal! If you let her let this pass…she won't ever be the same, no more fire. She needs this push and she can blame me until eternity, but I can't live with myself if I let her lose this last shot at happiness."

Booth sat there stunned. He was still unsure, even if Angela's words were true. _Hell, who am I kidding…_

"Go." She stared at him intensely for a minute before she got up and left.

He turned the plane ticket over in his hands. It was a one-way. Same with the train ticket. He'd fly into Moscow and take a train to get to where she is. But why the map?

*

As she walked back to the lab on the beautiful spring day, Angela whipped out her cell phone and dialed the satellite number Brennan had given her.

*

Oceans away and hours apart Brennan is elbow deep in dirt and bones. Currently she was sorting piles of femurs and pelvis bones, determining what belongs to whom. An annoying shrill ringtone breaks her concentration and the guard watching over her answers the satellite phone.

"Âllo?" He questions with a heavy accent. "Yes, Miss Monten-AH-gro" He rolled the rrrrrrr…

The guard strode over to where she was by the examining table. "Yourrrr frrriend, Doctarrr Brrrennan."

"Hi Angela," She answered not taking her eyes off of the guard who waited patiently to retrieve the phone.

"Bren, this is my doing, not his. Don't take it out on him, just listen and feel. Don't think. Love ya sweetie." Hang up.

Puzzled, she handed back the phone and muttered thanks before giving the phone back to the guard. Questions swirled through her mind and she went back to playing the Match Game.

*

_Passport? _Check.

_Ticket?_ Check.

_Bag?_ Check.

_What I'm going to say to her when we meet? _Lacking…but there's plenty of travel time to figure it out.

Booth picked up his bag and joined the throng of travelers on their way to London where he'd meet a connecting flight to Moscow. _I hope Angela is right about this one._

_

* * *

__A/N_: Stay tuned! :) Thanks for reading_  
_


	3. Frost or Flame

A/N: Aren't y'all glad I write this instead of my papers? I know I am! Thank you all as well for the lovely reviews. They MAKE MY DAY and encourage me to put off homework for your sake :) I really wanted to pick out a factually correct place for Brennan to be, but alas, I don't have hours to devote to Russian history and geography (which would actually be super interesting), so we're going for a no-name-mostly-made-up place, but the truth is in the fact that they existed. A prison work camp; GULAG.

Disclaimer: I've forgotten to do this with all my other stories but I in fact do not own Bones. I feel that it is well established that none of us here do, unless the writers/producers/whoevers are secretly lurking this website thinking "Ha! I have no disclaimers for my story! I DO own it! Mwahahaha". I also do not own the title of my story or chapters. It belongs to the Yeah Yeah Yeah's song 'Skeleton Me', my muse for this fic. Awesome song.

* * *

That face. _Her_ face. It was forever burned in his memory; he saw it every time he shut his eyes. He couldn't get it out of his head. _My octopus lobe? Is that what she called it?_ He tried to picture her in happier times, or tried to forget about her face period. Distractions, sleeping pills. There's no rest for the weary; and Seeley Booth was very weary.

What face, you may ask did he see? Of all the moments in the past six or so years he might reflect and obsess over, he couldn't stop picturing her face _that night_ when she asked if they could still work together. Her expressions looked tortured as he hesitated, debating whether to say no or not. He was weary. He was tired. He was growing tired of seeing her stubborn as a mule, refusing change, refusing to let him love her; refusing to let herself love him like he knew she did. And after hours on planes and his fourth hour on this godforsaken train, he was weary.

_I should have said no. Any sane person would have walked away from the pain by now. Why can't I? Oh yeah, right, you masochist: you love her. Stupid. What was I thinking, coming out here? She doesn't want to see me, or talk to me. I should have turned around and gone home the minute Angela suggested it. She "_Misses me like crazy_". What a load of crap. She's too stubborn. If she really did love me she would have come back by now._

Booth continued his bitter monologue as the train rumbled on. Somewhere in that time, he crossed over into unconsciousness watching her face crushed at the prospect of not working together, the kiss _that night_…that kiss in the rain all those years ago. How happy they had been working all those cases, watching her transform into Auntie Tempe…it bled into playing t-ball with Parker and morphed into his coma dream. Finally, Booth found peace.

*

The same could not be said for Brennan. For the 18th night in a row, she was curled up in her cot in her tiny room at the compound quietly crying herself to sleep. She knew it wasn't rational or adaptive to feel this way about him. She shouldn't. Not if she wanted to keep things the status quo where she was comfortable and happy enough. She couldn't pinpoint it where things had shifted irrevocably. Brennan began to regret that quiet, hurried _I love you_ before boarding. They could never go back to being the same after that, no matter how much she feared the change.

She began to ponder entropy. Nature doesn't like to stay perfectly ordered; it takes too much effort, too much energy. All molecules spend their existence trying to find their lowest energy states, reacting and re-reacting trying to establish equilibrium. Radioactive atoms will eschew pieces of themselves until a harmonious balance of proton:neutrons:electrons is established. No matter how much Brennan brushes her hair at night, it will look like a rats' nest in the morning; she'll spend precious minutes and effort to tame it back down before the wind outside her apartment tosses it about back into disarray. Energy wasted to keep order in vain. That is illogical and maladaptive.

She was weary. She was weary of spending all her energy, her emotional energy, painstakingly keeping her distance from him, trying to maintain this order she thought necessary. Brennan recognized that that energy would be released if (when?) she gave into him. Gave into the reaction that wanted, that _needed_ to occur. If they didn't react together, she would have to begin losing bits of herself to attain a broken, lonely equilibrium. She knew this was her last shot.

Her soft sobbing slowly abated; she couldn't let go of the images of him that formed in her head. Notably, that horrible hesitation when she asked if they could still work together. The tortured look in his eye, knowing that she was both his Heaven and Hell. The guilt she felt at the time and now. She saw the clear, convinced countenance he had as he looked her in the eye and said _I knew!_ He did know. He was right.

If she ever saw him again, all order she had maintained would be lost and she would be thrown into a delightful and frightening chaos. She drifted into a fitful sleep filled with dancing skeletons, barring her way from him as he yelled _I knew! I knew!_

*

"This is it?"

"Yes. Your stop. Go now." The impatient operator gestured Booth to the empty platform at the edge of a forest. The only thing that stopped the platform from completely blending into its surroundings was a small narrow road leading north away from the 'station'.

"No, no," Booth insisted. "This can't be it. I'm supposed to be going to-uh…this place." He pointed on the map at a spot marked in red in written in letters he didn't recognize.

The operator yanked booth's map from his hands and pointed out that yes; indeed, this was his stop; he gestured to similar funny letters marked on the faded sign on the platform. "Sir, I travel train thirty-five years. This is your stop. Take road," he pointed to the narrow pathway, "Seventeen kilometers and you find compound. _Dasvidania_, and good luck."

Defeated, Booth took back the map and descended onto the ancient platform and watched the train lumber west again. Once he couldn't see it anymore he glanced around. All he heard was the occasional twitter of a bird he'd never heard before. No planes, trains or automobiles any more. No traffic, no intoxicated people shouting late at night with joy. No noisy neighbor's television. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

His gut churned…_Maybe not completely alone_…he pictured various ravenous beasts that haunted the forests of his childhood fairy tales. _I better start walking if I'm going to make it there by night_.

He glanced at his map. Well, there's only one road marked and he only saw one road ahead. Mentally thanking Angela for the foresight to pack a map he headed out, striving for the point on it that was circled in red pen.

*

It had been a long, exhausting day…again. She and her makeshift team recovered at least twenty different sets of remains that she'll need to start IDing tomorrow. The little, troubled sleep she was having didn't help her exhaustion. It was 10 pm now; a guard would be at her door at 6 am tomorrow. All she had time for was a meal and shower before she went to bed. _I just want to go home…_she thought, too tired to even be surprised with herself for feeling so. There's no rest for the weary…

Half-awake and escorted by the intimidating Russian guards, she strolled past the entrance gates on the way to the mess hall.

"_Dr. BRENNAN! Dr. TEMPERANCE Brennan?? __That ring a bell?? I need to see her. I'm her friend. She's um…expecting me_." She snapped awake at the sound her name. She listened closer, scarcely able to believe the voice she heard.

"Booth?" She silently murmured to herself, tentatively stepping towards the gate. One step. Two steps. She could hardly make out his profile behind the gates in the dark, but she knew it was him. "Booth." Few more steps, quicker this time. Her heart began to thud in her chest, the realization that he was here! Why or how it doesn't matter. A familiar, friendly face. The only face she longed to see. _Booth!_

"Booth!!" She yelled as she broke out into a run, ignoring the guards behind her yelling out in Russian. Order has been shattered. The tension, the energy released into a beautiful chaos as she looked into his eyes from beyond the fence. No enormous amount of energy could stop this reaction's explosive power. She was done fighting it.

"Bones!" He called out, scarcely able to believe she was actually here, running towards him in her dirt encrusted coveralls, hair flying through the air like a water nymph. She was beautiful. She was here. She _loves _him.

"Booth…" She breathed, exhausted from the weeks and short sprint. She drew as close to him through the fence as possible. It was fashioned doubly of tall bars four inches apart and fastened with a chain link fence to it so no poor prisoner would be able to escape. Without thinking about it, she laced her fingers with his through the mesh. Tears glassed her eyes as she looked up at him in disbelief. "Why…How…You're here? Is this what Angela meant when she called?"

He gazed at her, marveling; he'd never been so happy to see her; he felt his heart might burst. "Probably…I didn't know she was going to warn you," Booth gave her his cocky little grin. "She sat me down…god knows how long it's been; I've been traveling for hours, days maybe…and she told me to come to you. This…this, Bones. This is our moment."

Knowing exactly to what he referenced she simply replied: "I know." They continued to gaze at each other. He so desperately wanted to touch her face. Run his fingers through her wind-mussed hair…kiss her without angst or fear of rejection.

"Doctarrr Brrennan." A harsh voice from behind her beckoned. Reluctantly and with a terrified weak look in her eyes, she turned away from Booth, fingers still laced. "We must be going. Yourrr frrrriend can find hotel."

"Hotel?? The nearest point of civilization is 90 kilometers away! And they don't have anything more than a grocery store either. The wolves are already out for the night. You don't want the disappearance of an American citizen linked to this place do you?"

Booth opened his mouth to spout off something about being an FBI agent, but Brennan sensed he might be that stupid and dug her fingernails into his palm. He got her message. He was also very puzzled. And afraid of the wolves; they weren't just a fairy tale after all.

"Just, let him come in for the night and we'll find out when the next train comes by and he'll head back to Moscow." She stared them down. Booth was _really_ puzzled. He wasn't planning on leaving this godforsaken place without her. His Spidey senses began to tingle.

"Who izz thizz frrriend of yourrrs?" One of the guards cast a suspicious eye.

"This is my fiancée." More fingernails to the palm. Internally Booth flipped out. _Bones never lies, and she never lets herself even fictionally be entangled in marriage; like Roxie's "More like engaged to be engaged" line_. "He hasn't been able to contact me for two weeks and was very worried so he came to find me." Booth couldn't see her face, but he could feel the blood surging through her veins. She was frightened.

After an eternity of a stare down, the guard glanced up to another in a tower nearby and uttered something unintelligible in a foreign tongue and the gate cranked to life. Booth immediately missed her physical contact as they sprang apart so the gate could open. As soon a person-sized opening was made, she ducked through and wrapped her arms around him as close as she could. He pulled her even tighter, finally feeling complete.

Booth buried his face into her hair not caring that tears flowed freely down his face. She too was softly crying into the crook of his neck. There was no millimeter of space left between them, hearts united. He softly kissed her head many times and she turned her neck so that her lips were softly pressed in the hollow of his throat, sparking heat all over his body. She looked up at him with shining eyes, filled with love…and fear.

"_Why?" _She sniffled and whispered… "_Why did you have to come here?"_

His heart sank. "B-Bones. What do you—"

"_Shhh…"_

He was abruptly cut off by her fingers lightly pressing against his lips. The fingers moved to softly caress his face, and work their way to the back of his head, lovingly turning his ear to her lips. Every atom in his body danced at the intimate contact as her lips brushed and breath tickled his ear.

"_I'm being watched_."

* * *

A/N: Side note: an awesome movie if you're into suspense/mystery/thriller (it's gorey at one point fyi) is Trans-Siberian with Woody Harrelson and Emily Mortimer and other people. Drugs, murder, mafia? Highly recommended.

As always, Thanks for reading :)


	4. Spin the Sky

A/N I told myself after Chapter 3 that I wasn't going to write anymore for this until my Philosophy paper was done and Voila! Chapter 4! Just for you! If you ever want to know anything about what Augustine thinks motivates crime...I'm your gal ;) Enjoy!

Oh, and I still don't own anything...except dearest Ivan and Vlad whom you will meet shortly.

* * *

No sooner had she uttered _I'm being watched_, the pair we're promptly whisked back into the grounds of the compound. "The wolves are already out" was offered as explanation for the quick reunion. The guards wanted to take Booth alone to the head station to search through his bag and jacket, but Brennan refused to leave his side or release his hand.

They began digging through his luggage, taste-testing his toothpaste, studying the shoes they had pulled off his feet. He had loaned his only suitcase to Jared a month ago who hadn't bothered to return it yet; in the pinch to grab the plane on time, he had dumped out all the sweaty gym clothes from the day before out of his Flyers bag and packed. _The fresh clothes probably smell by now_. Oh well, at least he was there…

"Mr. Booth. Have you no wallet?" Ivan demanded.

Booth scrunched his forehead and began to pat down his back and front pant pockets. "What? Where the hell is it?" He ran his left hand through is hair, tired and confused. His right patted each of his well developed pectorals, still searching for the misshapen lump. "Oh man…when I was getting on the train a young dude body-checked me apologized and left. He must have taken it…oh geez. How the hell am I gonna get back?"

"Oh, don't worry…sweetheart," Brennan chimed in cheerfully (a mixture of fake ooey gooey for the Russians and uncontrolled delight of being with him again). "I have lots of frequent flyer miles saved up from all the book tours I did last year."

Ivan eyed them suspiciously as he placed Booth's belongings back into the gym bag he had packed.

"Vlad will escort you to dinner. I will take the…luggage…to your room Doctarrr Brrrrennan. Tomorrow is your day off, no?"

"Uh, yes, that is correct."

"Ring us when you need to be escorted elsewhere beyond the bunk. Good evening."

"Good evening," the pair replied. Booth's shoes and jacket were returned and they were escorted to the dining hall. As soon as they hit the chilly outdoors, Brennan reclaimed Booth's hand and they walked close on the way to the mess hall. He looked over to smile at her when he noticed that her left coverall pocket looked heavy laden. She saw what he was suspecting and squeezed his hand.

They arrived at a formidable set of double doors. As Vlad swiped an access card and punched in a pin, Brennan seized the opportunity to quickly kiss the tip of his shoulder. Booth reached over with his free hand and softly traced her cheekbone and down her jaw. They locked eyes, clear for the first time it seemed. No awkwardness, no hesitations, and no questions about what _this_ means. She didn't have to say it, and he didn't need to hear it: _I love you_, their eyes both said.

The double doors unlocked and opened of their own accord. Vlad quickly escorted them through and down a hallway and through another door. The new door opened up into a large room filled with long, stainless steel tables with long, stainless steel benches. A food line was set up to their right. The cafeteria was elegantly done in tones of grey, cement and steel. Even the dig team's grey coveralls matched. Vlad took his seemingly appointed place to the side of the door and Brennan led Booth to the grub line.

"Wow Bones!" Booth remarked in his classic way, "You sure know how to find the luxury spots for your vacations! This place blows my Hawaiian dreams, right out of the water." He even used very melodramatic body language to embellish the last statement. Some onlookers raised eyebrows, but Bones just politely smiled and handed him a, you guessed it, grey plastic tray and proceed through the line.

Unsure what was what, Booth got a scoop of everything and he and Bones sat by themselves.

"Even the food here is done in different shades of grey," Booth muttered quiet enough only for her to hear. He swirled around what looked like light grey mashed potatoes. "What is this stuff anyway?"

Brennan immediately leaned forward across the table and began pointing to each item, spouting off Russian names and descriptions of each. Booth watched her as she went all 'squinty' over his food. Her delight was evident; she was finally acting like the Bones he knew and loved, not a beat down, lying wallet-stealer. As he half-grinned she looked back up at him.

She saw the twinkle in his eye and she realized that he hadn't heard a word she had just said. She gave back a wide grin and sat back. Very sneakily she crossed her legs underneath the table, positioning her foot to expertly slide up his calf, over his knee and…She devilishly watched Booth sit up a little straighter, his breath catching in his throat.

"You better clean your plate, Mr. Booth, or you won't get any dessert." She pursed her lips into a coy smile and began to eat the wilted cabbage concoction in front of her. She kept her foot where it was.

"Feeling puckish, are we?" He winked at her and began eating the concrete potato mash. They stuck to neutral subjects: his hockey team, their noisy neighbors, passengers in the trains…Quickly they finished and were escorted to the barracks. Vlad was not as friendly as Ivan and did not bid them a good evening.

The pair watched hand in hand as the door swung shut.

*

They stared at each other, tired eyes…finally alone. The walls came down and so many unanswered questions filled his eye. He could tell that she had a lot that she wanted to tell him. After an eternity of staring Booth opened his mouth to start up the conversation he came here to have. Brennan closed the gap and clamped her hand over his mouth. Surprised and put off, he still could help placing both hands on her hips as she drew close.

For the second time that night, she breathed into his ear, electrifying his limbs, increasing his pulse. "_Insects,_" she hissed.

He shook his head to free his mouth from her hand, "_You mean bugs? Do they have you bugged?"_ he replied in a similar fashion. Brennan's head fogged slightly and nerve ending in her lower back and neck tingled at the intimacy.

"_Maybe. They were in here dropping off your bag and another cot. I wouldn't put it past them. They're very paranoid and suspicious people._"

"_And you're not?_"

"Booth!" she exclaimed as she tried to pull away.

"Hey, hey, not so fast," He pulled her gently back into his arms. He clasped his hands at her lower back, and she settled into the crook of his neck. He felt a warm wetness where her eyelashes tickled at his shirt collar.

"_I missed you," _She whispered softly. The tip of her nose felt his vein pulsing quickly.

"_I know, Bones. We'll scour the room and then talk. I'm not leaving here without you."_

He felt her nod, he heard her sniffle, then she pulled away and wiped her tears on her dirty sleeve. They silently began their search looking where the wall meets the floor around the perimeter, up the walls, the door-frame, the window sill, the corners where the ceiling meets the wall... They dumped out their belongings from the luggage and inspected the contents. Booth emptied out his toiletries. He looked everything over…

The toothpaste. They had taken his toothpaste and replaced it with some kind of Russian brand. New tube, never been used. Booth poked his partner who was beating the poor pillows to death. She turned to face him and he dramatically raised his eyebrows and gestured to the toothpaste. She nodded as she made the connection and reached for her surgical kit that she used for defleshing remains. So far she hadn't needed it, but you never know just when a fresh scalpel will come in handy.

She expertly sliced open the tube like a coroner would during an autopsy. Sure, it was a tube of fluoride fortified toothpaste…well, half of it was anyway.

The side of the spout was filled with white, minty toothpaste so that any unsuspecting person would be able to brush their teeth as happily as a gopher while the half next to the seam was contained a chip that had a microphone and transmitter. Brennan sucked in her lips and looked up at booth who had a similar face. He twitched his head in the direction of her toiletries bag, now scattered on her cot. She retrieved her Russian brand toothpaste and split it open similarly.

Sure enough, there was another bug. Booth picked the chips up and snapped them in half. Together they snapped them into quarters and booth used the scalpel to destroy the microphone bits and transmitters. They stood staring at their handiwork for a minute and slowly looked over to each other.

"So." She stated with a sigh.

"So." He repeated. "What do you want to talk about first?

* * *

A/N Oooh lala! What will happen next??? Thank you everybody for reading and the lovely reviews!


	5. Fall Asleep

A/N: Hello everybody and welcome to Chapter 5. **Warning. FLUFFERIFIC**. I'm not kidding. Be safe...Okay, maybe not fluffy like how some people see fluff, but it's pretty fluffy for my writing. Also, sorry about the last chapter. I didn't mean for it to end like that, but it felt right for it to end right there. Also **Warning** It may not be completely politically/historically accurate, but it's a fan fiction. What's important is Brennan and Booth and what the heck is going on in the GULAG! What the heck is going on? Read, my friends and you shall see ;)

Still don't own any of it. Although I do have a VHS of the Sound of Music...

* * *

She had changed out of her dirty coveralls and into a well loved, over-sized Winnie the Pooh t-shirt and sweatpants. Booth let out a teasing remark that she responded to with just a grin. Once he too had changed into good ol' plaid pajama pants, they laid down on her cot and fell easily into a cuddle.

"So." Booth began again. "Where to start…I don't think I've ever had this many questions for you before, Bones."

"Well, you could start by asking about my letter; you could ask me what the hell those bugs were all about…you could ask me why I'm being held here against my will—"

"You're being held here against your will?"

"It was never explicitly stated to me when I would be done. However, I've been given the impression that I am to continue working here until they tell me I'm done; the contract I signed stipulated no deadlines. Or if it did it was well concealed within the legal jargon that didn't translate well from Russian. They didn't give me enough time to properly review it, so I'm still unclear as to what I signed up for."

He sighed heavily and drew his arms tighter around her. "How the hell did you end up here Bones?"

"Well…Four months ago I received an invitation from the Russian government requesting my expertise in identifying human remains found in a former GULAG."

"Don't they have their own damn anthropologists?"

"Booth, I am not bragging when I say that I'm a world renowned anthro—"

"Yeah, yeah, I've gotten the spiel before. They contacted you a few months ago…and what you forgot to tell me?"

"Well…no." She hesitated before proceeding. "We had phone conversations several times arranging the travel details and visa. I didn't tell you since we got really busy with the case load and then…_it._"

"_It_." He repeated.

"Yes." She went silent again, not sure how to continue. "I-I…when it happened, I did panic. I was afraid, Booth. Terribly afraid. I was going to tell you about me going, but then we had the meeting with Sweets and I forgot about it when…well…you were there."

Instead of answering, Booth gently kissed her temple. Brennan squeezed the hand she held in return and continued to talk.

"46 hours later, I dropped the note off at your office and away I went." In her sleep-deprivation induced giddiness, she gestured with her free hand an airplane flying away; sounds included. She and Booth giggled together. They stopped for a moment when their eyes locked and Brennan couldn't help herself. She leaned up to him and chastely kissed his lips. They both sighed in content, resting with their foreheads together.

"I meant what I said on the phone, Booth," She whispered, staring intimately into his eyes from an inch away.

"I know, Bones. I know you well enough by now that you don't lie. Except when you're sneaking me into a Russian GULAG in the middle of nowhere, stealing my wallet." She giggled at his well-founded accusation. He pressed a light kiss on each of her eyelids. "I love you too. Tell me more about the Russians first before we get to the good part."

She grinned sheepishly and then continued: "When I arrived in Moscow I was pulled out of the regular checkpoint and was put into official custody and from thenceforth put under constant supervision. They rummaged through my luggage and removed things to "keep safe" until I returned home."

"What things?"

"Well, obviously, my toothpaste. My passport and official documentation about my visit, my cell phone, my wallet with credit cards and identification…electronics, books, magazines…Anything that could be of use to me to contact the outside world. I was put on a train with supervision and arrived here. Ivan has been kind enough to me to allow me contact with Angela every 5 days, but that's strictly off the books. They don't know that I'm fluent in Russian. I find it very advantageous to keep it on the DK."

"The DL, Bones. The _Down Low,_" Booth corrected her as always with his cocky attitude which she found endearing.

"Yes. The DL. I'm more in the lasso that way"—Booth rolled his eyes—"Following their conversations or radio orders confirmed that I'm more or less captive. They're never to let me out of their sight and they observe my conversations with others, the various requests I make…I don't know, Booth, and I don't really know why. They never explicitly told me that I'm being held here, but they have yet to mention a return date for me. As soon as I finish with one set of remains, they drag me to another mass grave and I have a pile of 40 sets of remains that I have to play match with and then identify height, age, race, year of interment and then match GULAG records."

"What about causes of death?"

"Malnutrion, exhaustion…oftentimes cruelty. I have the distinct impression that I need to stay away from cause and manner of death."

"What?"

"I know, Booth…They already know who is responsible for it. The Soviet Government set up these camps for politically threatening people, peasant populations, ethnic groups…millions of people got sent to these camps and were never seen again. Stalin used the prisoners as the labor force for his Five Year Plans to industrialize the rural nations under his power; it was very successful actually. But it was at the cost of all these lives. Since the fall of the Berlin wall and return to a democracy of sorts, they've been trying to return remains to the families of the victims. Give them some closure."

"Does an apology come with it?"

"I'm not sure, Booth. I haven't asked and I don't intend on stepping on their toes."

"Bones," He shifted so that they were looking into each other's eyes again. His were filled with concern. "This doesn't sound like you at all. You're the one who screams out for justice on every case. You're the one who kicks and spits and throws a tantrum until you're allowed to do everything to deliver it. Even if you don't get permission, you do it anyway!"

"I do no such thing!" But Booth cut her off.

"And you hardly let me open doors for you and accuse me of hovering and you're letting the Russians walk all over you! What happened to you Bones? I haven't heard much about your time in Central America but the Bones I know certainly doesn't put up with this kind of shit."

Her eyes brimmed with tears and when she blinked they fell. "Booth…I…this is different…" she untangled herself from him, got up and sat on the cot opposite him. Brennan buried her face in her hands in frustration. _Where do I start?_

"I…I didn't have anybody before. No one used to care whether I died in some godforsaken country or not. I was the only one who would miss me. I wouldn't be letting anyone down or anyone behind if it happened, so I felt free to be as…persistent…as I usually am. This," gesturing between them, "This is different."

"How so, Bones? Oh and you do know that's not true about people not missing you right?"

"They would have gotten over it eventually. You're different Booth. I left for once with full intention of making it back. Not surviving isn't an option because you are, well, you _were_, back home waiting and counting on me to come home…Home," she lightly scoffed, wiping away a stray tear that somehow had appeared. "You're the first real home I've felt in years Booth. I've never felt at home anywhere since my parents left. It doesn't matter if we're driving a car, at one of our usual haunts or in some stupid Russian concentration camp. You're my home. And I have to live to make it back home to you."

They both had silent tears flowing down their cheeks, their moment having finally arrived. Without waiting another minute they found each other's embrace. They shared finally that passionate kiss that both had longed for since their first six years ago. His arms were wrapped around her as tightly as would allow her to breathe while she gripped his t-shirt. There was no room for the Holy Spirit this time and sufficient 'tongue contact' to placate Sweets. Breathless they pulled away for air and she cupped his cheek in her right hand.

"I love you, Booth. I'm afraid of what this change is going to mean for us. I can't lose you. You are my rock. We're supposed to be the center of the team, but really you're the one that grounds me. If something happened…I don't know how I would go on. If we were separated in the field and then we broke up—"

Booth effectively shut her up with another heated kiss. Beginning very passionately, hands tangled in hair, Booth expertly slowed down until he was only softly touching her lips. He pulled away slightly to kiss the tip of her nose and then her forehead.

"I love you Bones. I'm not going anywhere without you close to my heart. I was already yours years ago. You don't have to worry about me leaving. You're the only woman for me, however, even if we make a strange couple sometimes. But for this to work, _you_ have to have confidence in this. If you hang around waiting for this to fall apart, well, that's what's gonna happen. I've been here, well consistently, for five years now. You've tried to repel me many times before and it hasn't worked yet. So don't be scared on my account. But I need you to have confidence in _this_. Hey, did you ever see the Sound of Music?" He flashed Brennan his boyish grin.

"Of course. That was my mother's favorite musical. When I'd be home sick from school she'd dance around the living room acting out all the songs for me." She smiled back knowing which song he referred to.

"_I have confidence in sunshine_," He began in a beautiful falsetto. "_I have confidence in rain…_Com'on Bones! We're delirious enough for this!"

"_I have confidence in confidence alone! Besides which you see, I have confidence in ME!"_ They finished together.

She chuckled and shook her head. "That, Seeley Booth, was too corny; even for you." She lightly kissed his lips. "I love you." She simply stated and leaned into his embrace. "It feels…so… good, for lack of a more quantifying word, to say that to you. I don't even know how long I've been holding onto it. Since your coma. I think that's when I thought it for the first time. But I'm sure I felt it before then. Whatever this feeling is…"

He gently kissed the top of her head. "Don't pick it apart to death. Just enjoy it. Sweets, Angela, Cam, Rebecca…analyzing every detail of our relationship is their job. For once, you just sit back and enjoy the ride."

She furrowed her brow. "Are you implying something Booth?"

He chuckled. "Not tonight, Bones, I'm beat. We'll save that for when we get back home."

"If we get back home…" Brennan muttered.

"Confidence, Bones…"

They curled up on the cot together, finally too exhausted to stay awake any longer. Booth's ulcer had subsided knowing that she was safe and in his arms. If he played his cards right, he could have every night for the rest of his life like this. Brennan quickly and easily slipped into the most peaceful sleep she'd had since her parents disappeared all those years ago. She finally felt safe, happy, and _loved_.


End file.
